My Family Growing Up By Dr. Cleamon Moorer - 2229 Words

â€Å"We all have the capacity to create our own destiny.† This quote from our first African American president Barack Obama truly resonated with me, along with your story, Dr. Cleamon Moorer, that was purely orchestrated by God. Two highly accomplished and successful African American men, whose lives give me and many others hope that anything is possible as long as you never give up on yourself and more importantly on God. Background: Who am I My family growing up was composed of a strong devoted mother, who was a housewife; an equally strong father who was the provider; an older sister, who taught me how to be true to myself; an older brother, who inspired me to love and live life to the fullest; and an even older brother, who influenced me to dream big. As you read, I was the youngest of four children and was known for being a smartass. I had a question and answer for everything. If I didn’t know all the answers I still had the convincing conviction of my argument like most politicians. In other words, at a very young age I had a thirst for knowledge and to be the great white hope for my family. I came from a household composed of a father making a little over minimum wage that had to be stretched paper thin to raise a family of six. Although we had very little money, we had each other and God. Therefore, I lived in a low income community and was zoned to schools which lacked a lot of materi als and programs needed to provide a quality education that equated to what was

Aldous Huxley s Brave New World - 3277 Words

Brave New World is a cautionary tale about the crushing effects of an authoritarian regime on human individuality. In this satire, Aldous Huxley offers a critique of totalitarianism by creating a single World State government and society. Although the World State’s motto is â€Å"community, identity, and stability,† ironically, the concept of individual identity is all but lost to the citizens of the World State (Huxley). The government controls virtually every aspect of human activity -- from creation to death. In exchange for comfort, happiness, and stability, the people in Huxley’s world give up their free will and sense of self. To make his point, Huxley employs powerful symbols of a mechanical, mind-numbing world where individual identity†¦show more content†¦Bokanovskification, the process used to manufacture identical â€Å"parts† to fit into this machine, employs â€Å"the whole of a small factory staffed with the products of a single bok anovskified egg† (Huxley). The world of the hatcheries is a metaphor for the way totalitarian governments operate to control every aspect of their citizens lives, from beginning to end. The Bokanovsky method of conception dehumanizes people from the moment of birth. Huxley s assembly line imagery shows that individual babies are no more distinct or important than mechanical products. Babies are not born; they are produced. There is no creation of life by a sexual act or an expression of love. There is no individual experience of pregnancy and birth. There is no modern concept of a mother or father or family whatsoever, so humans are stripped of a true personal identity. Without a family, each person lacks unique childhood stories. Without a family, each person belongs to the State. Through the hatcheries, the government is the creator and parent of every child. The few individuals who exercise control over the people are men playing at being God (Kass). As the leaders of the government, they decide what people s social rank will be before they are even born. With the idea that there can be â€Å"no stability without social stability,† the World Controllers create a very strict social order (Huxley). This religious image of the controllers as gods is connected to

Secrets Essay Example For Students

Secrets Essay Im Billy and youre not going to believe the predicament Im in. It all began A week after I started uni I was heavily in debt, and under a lot of pressure from my parents. They had just got divorced and the courts said that I was only allowed to live with my mum because my dad had previously been sent to jail. My mum had been made redundant because she had just given birth to my brother Matthew, and fell ill. My piece of dirt dad was supposed to support us, but he didnt fork out any money us. So with what little money I earned I had to keep my family. On the way to uni I normally stopped in Aldays to buy my lunch, and that day was no exception. I went up to the till to pay for my stuff, when I noticed a small piece of paper, which was all scrupled in a ball. So I unravelled it and at the top it said 57,12,15,37. It was the combination to a safe. I thought oh great Ill get out of debt easy with this piece of paper. I was so excited I forgot to buy my lunch and went to uni without it . After lectures had finished I went back to Aldays and I went round the back, hoping to find a back entrance to Aldays. The street was more like a back alley it was dark, dingy and narrow. It really must have been my lucky day as the back door to Aldays was swinging open in the wind. When I walked past the door, I could see that there was no one in the back room. Before I stepped in I thought I hope the safe isnt hard to find. so I walked in. The room was really well lit , with boxes of stuff piled high , bundles of old newspapers and beside them was a safe. I crept up to the safe and started putting in the combination 57,à ¢Ã¢â€š ¬Ã‚ ¦12,à ¢Ã¢â€š ¬Ã‚ ¦Ãƒ ¢Ã¢â€š ¬Ã‚ ¦.15à ¢Ã¢â€š ¬Ã‚ ¦and 37. Suddenly the safe gave out a tremendous click and it opened. Inside there was several bags filled with different amounts of money inside them. As quickly as I could I shoved them into my bag. SLAM! The door to the shop opened. I was in such a panic that I banged the safe door shut and darted behind a pile of boxes. I peeked over the boxes and two men walked in. One of them was crying with anger, and the other had an innocent look on his face. In an angry but tearful voice one of them said Why?à ¢Ã¢â€š ¬Ã‚ ¦Why Did you sleep with my wife? In a sobbing voice the other guy said It justà ¢Ã¢â€š ¬Ã‚ ¦ wellà ¢Ã¢â€š ¬Ã‚ ¦.happened. I was drunk. She was drunk. We didnt want it to happen. I thought you were my best friendà ¢Ã¢â€š ¬Ã‚ ¦.I wish you were dead. Then he punched the cabinet and steamed out! The other  guy went to follow but he tripped over the cabinet and it came down on him with an almighty crash. I thought I better get out of here before the other man comes back. So I ran out of the back door and emerged into the street. I walked away slowly so I didnt look suspicious. It was easy getting home because there was no trouble from any body. When I got home I went straight to my room to hide the money. I thought nothing else of it until the next day when my mum turned over to the news, there was a story about a murder in the Aldays where I had stolen the money. The first thing that came into my head was, Murder there wasnt a murder, the guy accidentally killed himself. Then it said the victims name was Jamie Knight and the suspected killer was David Jones. It showed pictures of the men that I saw in Aldays. The reporter went on to say Jamie Knight was crushed to death when a cabinet was pushed on top of him. David Joness finger prints were found on the cabinet so the police are treating the death as suspicious. I thought that must have been from when he punched it. The reporter finished it with The court case for this tragedy will be heard on October the 4th. .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b , .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b .postImageUrl , .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b .centered-text-area { min-height: 80px; position: relative; } .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b , .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b:hover , .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b:visited , .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b:active { border:0!important; } .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b .clearfix:after { content: ""; display: table; clear: both; } .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b { display: block; transition: background-color 250ms; webkit-transition: background-color 250ms; width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #95A5A6; } .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b:active , .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b:hover { opacity: 1; transition: opacity 250ms; webkit-transition: opacity 250ms; background-color: #2C3E50; } .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b .centered-text-area { width: 100%; position: relative ; } .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b .ctaText { border-bottom: 0 solid #fff; color: #2980B9; font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; margin: 0; padding: 0; text-decoration: underline; } .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b .postTitle { color: #FFFFFF; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; margin: 0; padding: 0; width: 100%; } .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b .ctaButton { background-color: #7F8C8D!important; color: #2980B9; border: none; border-radius: 3px; box-shadow: none; font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 26px; moz-border-radius: 3px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-shadow: none; width: 80px; min-height: 80px; background: url(https://artscolumbia.org/wp-content/plugins/intelly-related-posts/assets/images/simple-arrow.png)no-repeat; position: absolute; right: 0; top: 0; } .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b:hover .ctaButton { background-color: #34495E!important; } .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b .centered-text { display: table; height: 80px; padding-left : 18px; top: 0; } .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b-content { display: table-cell; margin: 0; padding: 0; padding-right: 108px; position: relative; vertical-align: middle; width: 100%; } .u5bce6fe05dfb99de0475e008f8b4d79b:after { content: ""; display: block; clear: both; } READ: Logic and Critical Thinking EssayThis was eating me up inside because I and only I knew the truth, and I was the only one who could do something about it. What happened the next day made it worse I got a letter from the council saying I was to do jury service in the week starting October 4th That meant I had to be on jury for that murder case talk about a twist of luck. * * * Its now October the third and all Ive been able to think about for the last few weeks has been. the murder case Am I going to prove Davids Innocence by telling them what I saw. If I do that I will get put in jail and I would ruin my future, wreck mums life, and god knows what Matthew would think of me. Or I could not say anything and hope that the other jury members think hes not guilty. And now you can see what a serious the predicament Im in . * * * Now its the big day and Im sitting in the jury box. All these people came up to give evidence and all I could think about was Ill go next Ill go next. The people were coming up one by one. then I was just too scared to stand forward so I just wrote not guilty on my card and hope for the best. then one of the jury members took our cards and gave them to the judge. Then in a deep voice the judge said We  find the defendant. All that was going through my head was the words not guilty. After what seemed an eternity the judge said guilty, and I sentence you to life imprisonment. There was a huge cry from the defendant side of the court. I was distraught, how could I ruin other peoples lives like that. When I was walking home all I kept saying to myself was How could I have been so selfish Ive ruined people lives and for what. A few months in jail at best. * * * To Mum This diary explains everything. Im sorry mum I didnt mean to hurt you and Matthew. Im so sorry. When Matthew grows up tell him I love him. I love you mum Billy

You’ve been told in order to write, you need to be inspired. That’s a load of bull. free essay sample

â€Å"You’ve been told in order to write, you need to be inspired. That’s a load of bull. You have all the inspiration you need inside of you. Just unleash it.† These were the words of my teacher, Traci, on the first day of my creative writing summer school. My first assignment last summer was to describe the journey that had brought me there, to L.A., for a four-week writing program. For me, the journey had begun four summers earlier, before eighth grade. That was the summer I decided to become a writer. At the end of seventh grade, my English teacher gave me a summer homework assignment that unexpectedly changed the course of my life. His command was simple: â€Å"Write every single day.† I moaned and groaned. Back then, writing was a chore. Nevertheless, I wrote in my journal daily for ten minutes as assigned. Slowly my ten minutes of writing became an hour. We will write a custom essay sample on You’ve been told in order to write, you need to be inspired. That’s a load of bull. or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page In my journal, I discussed the books I was reading, the ideas I had. I wrote short stories that continued from one week to the next. By the summer’s end, I was addicted to writing in my journal. When my parents asked me if I had finished my chores, they caught me writing. I protested stealthily, â€Å"I’m doing homework. It’s required.† As my writing grew more prolific, I knew I wanted to spend my life with a pen in hand. The summer ended, but my journals continued. I still carry a notebook with me at all times in case inspiration strikes. Because of my summer journal, writing, which I used to find dull, became my greatest passion. If I wrote an autobiography, my experience last summer in L.A. would be the second chapter of my journey as a writer. For the first time, I was surrounded by other writers my age who understood the frustration of searching for one elusive word, or the joy of piecing a plot together. Everywhere on campus, I could feel the hum of creativity in the air as we bounced ideas off each other. We were responsible for critiquing each other, while our teachers helped us improve our technique. From every assignment my teachers gave me— even the zany ones, like writing a dialogue entirely in slang or a poem using only the words from The Cat in the Hat— I learned how to grasp the fire within me, my passion for writing, and to channel it. I suffered from writer’s block many times while at summer school because every day my teachers demanded new creative material from us, but I learned how to thrive under the pressure. With Traci’s advice in mind, whenever I sought a burs t of inspiration, I would examine my own memories, feelings, and opinions to find something to say. I learned to summon creativity whenever I needed it to fuel my passion for writing. And in the process, I found my voice— the unfaltering words in my heart that I can share with the world.